


Snapshots

by GonnaTryThisAgain



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GonnaTryThisAgain/pseuds/GonnaTryThisAgain
Summary: Normal life, what was he thinking? He's a Gallagher.





	1. Chapter 1

Ian's thumb repeatedly circled around the opening of the beer bottle. The colored lights reflected in the dark glass held his gaze. The noise around him seemed muffled and distant. It had been weeks of trying to deal with chaos left from Mickey and Monica, he still didn't feel like he was on steady ground anymore. Emotions still raw from walking away from Mickey and stepping into the tragedy of Monica dying had really taken the wind out of his sails. Nothing was ever simple with Monica, probably not for any of the Gallagher's and Ian was probably more conflicted than most of them. Parts of him understood her more than any of his siblings, had more and less sympathy for the life she lived.

Memories of Monica always seemed exist in snapshots, minutes that fade into black. High on mania and any drug they could get their hands on, her hands on his face declaring him the most beautiful man she knew. Young and trying to keep a hold of her hand as she left with another man she thought could love her better than Frank, her sweet voice saying she would come back in a couple of days for the kids as Fiona looked on with dark eyes as the door closed behind her. Every time he tried to think about how he felt about her death he felt as if a weight was pressing on his chest until he couldn't breathe, so he's stopped thinking about her. Healthy, he knew. He's stopped thinking about a lot of things.

A voice cut through the fog he was in, "-okay, Ian?"

He looked up to see Fiona looking at him, "hhhmmm?"

Fiona searched his eyes, "Where you at?"

Ian pulled out his best smile."Here...right here."

There was still worry in Fiona's eyes so Ian looked away back to the movie that the family was gathered around. They had all been making the effort to be here together. To surround themselves with family, bolster each other up and fill in the cracks that tragedy had left them. When life went wrong they buried themselves in family until they came out whole again. Looking around he saw that Debbie had left at some point, probably taking care of Frannie upstairs. Getting up off the couch he went into the kitchen and poured his warm beer down the sink. Putting the bottle down he put his face in his hands. He suddenly got the urge to scream as loud as he could into his palms, as if he could contain his feelings in his hands and crush them as they became too much. Ian's breath hitched for a second, body fighting the urge and he sighed. Dropping his hands, they rested on the edge of the sink.

"Ian? You good?"

Ian turned to see Lip behind him. He had bags under his eyes that haven't went away in the weeks that Ian has seen him. Ian watches as his eyes involuntarily drift to the beer bottle by his side before snapping back to his. "Yeah, just needed to take a breath. Crowded."

"Yeah...feeling okay? Meds good?" Lip put a flat hand out and showed it rocking slightly. "Steady?"

Ian sighed, he knew that they were all watching him very carefully. He hadn't told them he went with Mickey for those days but all of them knew. Ian knew that his ex-boyfriend escaping from prison and trying to get him to run away with him was a triggering situation for his disorder. Let alone that he came home to the fact that his absent, enabling mother had just died leaving a trail of destruction like she always does. He hasn't felt unsteady though. If anything he's felt disturbingly calm. "I'm fine. Great."

Ian closed his eyes at Lip's sigh. "Okay," Lip said. "Just you haven't talked about it. Any of it. I know this past month has been hard and we just don't want anything..."

Behind Ian's eyes flashed the wall, his eyes fixed unblinking on it as his family tried to get him out of bed. The road empty as he sped grinning with Yev in the backseat. His stomach rolled as he remembered what he put everyone through. What his mind convinced him was normal...he still remembers the logic of it all. The thoughts convincing him that danger lurked around every corner, that he needed a baseball bat within arms reach to beat off anyone who was about to come bursting through the door. The numbness of laying in bed for days and the sinking feeling every time he imagined stepping onto the floor, certain the ground would crumble and send him crashing through the earth.

That was the terrifying thing, the distance between his thoughts and the reality of the situation. Even now, Ian caught himself watching for people's reactions to his behavior, waiting to see if he was normal or not. Three days ago Ian found himself on the bathroom floor counting his pills and making sure he had taken them every day this month, terrified that his mind had convinced him that he would be fine to go without, that they would fail and he would find himself face down in a snowbank any day now. There was never a certainty that his brain would cooperate with him.

"If I feel......I'll tell you, okay?" He opened his eyes, and looked at Lip, lying through his teeth. "I'll tell you.”

 

 

  
Ian could see his breath as he waited on the park bench. The cold air bit into his bare hands as he typed out a text. "Fuck," he swore as his numb fingers kept missing the letter that he was aiming for. Finishing he shoved his phone and his hands in his pockets. "Jesus Christ, fucking winter." He shuffled his feet as he tried to keep feeling in his toes. After a few moments of debating whether he should just fucking leave a car finally pulled up and honked. Jumping to his feet Ian got into the passenger seat.  
"Took you long enough."

"Oh shut the fuck up. It's been like five minutes." Lip bitched at him.

"You're the one that wanted me to go to this thing."

"Want to? I wouldn't go that far." Lip paused. "Thanks for coming though."  
Ian smiled. "Yeah, yeah."

Lip had been steadily going to AA for a while now. His support group was having open meetings that you could bring family to this week. Lip had ambushed Ian, starting on a rant about sobriety and the help of having an involved support group before even asking him to come. Ian didn't ask why he was the only one that Lip asked to come, having kept enough things from his family that he could understand. Ian didn't say anything to Fiona knowing that she would be hurt at not being included. Ian looked out the window watching the familiar surroundings whiz by.

Clearing his throat Lip obviously tried for casual saying, "It's not going to be much just the whole sharing with group. You don't have to say anything or share, just.."

"It'll be fine." Ian said not looking away from the window.

"I know. They said that there should be drinks and shit for the meeting. And there are-"

Ian reached over and grasped Lip's shoulder as they slowed down and pulled up to the curb. "It'll be fine."

“And I mean you can share too. About me or...y'know Monica.”

“Lip, I don't need to talk to anyone.”

Lip looks at him with earnest eyes that Ian knows aren't real. “Of course you don't.” As they get out of the car Ian grits his teeth and tries to shake off the annoyance of Lip's condescending tone.

 

 

  
Walking up the stairs to the house he kicks the door jam to get the snow off his boots. The house is quiet when he walks in and glancing around he doesn't see anyone in the kitchen or living room. He kicks off his boots and heads up to his bedroom. The shift he had just gotten off of was long and hard. It had seemed like the calls hadn't stopped, one right after the other. When his shift was officially supposed to be over he had been giving CPR to a man that had suffered a heart attack in the middle of an uptown hotel lobby. It had taken over an hour to finish with that call and leave.

Exhausted he strips off his clothes and lands face first on the bed. Almost instantly he's on the verge of sleep. He shoves the pillow into position under his head and for a split second he can smell something that sends an instant wave of relaxation through him. Snuggling into the pillow he breathes deep. It takes a minute but his eyes shoot open. He could swear that it smelled like...like Mickey. Eyes flitting to the door he buries his face in the pillow. It was barely there, just still clinging to the fabric. Stupidly he felt on the verge of tears. A surge of pure want went through him, just for Mickey to be here.

Ian tried to shake the thought, he didn't need Mickey. Ian was doing great. He had said his goodbye's as Mickey drove over the border to a new life. Just the smell of him shouldn't leave him feeling like he's been gutted. Rolling over onto his back away from the pillow he stared at the ceiling. Pull it together, he thinks to himself. Ian had the unnerving feeling that if he gave into feeling one of the many fathomless emotions that have been building he would collapse under the weight of them all. He couldn't, he was normal now. Ian had a job and a boyfriend. He took his medications religiously, he couldn't still be this fucked up. He was supposed to be better. Ian was supposed to be stronger than this.

Swallowing harshly, Ian's breath quickened as he shoved the pillow down by his feet and grabbed another. Taking slow breaths he tried to get comfortable again. His knuckles turned white as he tried to ignore the urge to grab the pillow and bury his face in it. Ian's heart urged him to breathe it in before any trace of Mickey was gone. Counting his breaths, Ian tried to make his mind blank. It was a long time before he was able to sleep.

 

 

 

  
Ian crashes hard after his mini meltdown. He sleeps for twelve hours, only getting up to take his meds. Finally waking up, he feels like he's in a fog. Groaning he rolls over onto his back and stares upward. He tries to catalog what he's feeling, the grogginess and fuzzy head. After several minutes contemplating he doesn't know if it's because of the extra sleep or because he's out of balance. Ian promises himself to give it another day and then call the clinic. He tries to think of it as progress when it feels like failure. After a few minutes Ian forces himself out of bed. Going to the bathroom, he starts the shower and then stands under the hot spray for a few minutes, hoping to just melt.

A rough bang against the door drew him out of his stupor. "I need to go! Come one!" Debbie yelled.

Sighing, Ian turned the spray off. He got a towel and wrapped it around his waist. Debbie rushed in as he opened the door. She pushed him and slammed it shut behind her. He shivered as the cold air hit him. Pulling clothes out of his dresser he paused as he thought of the pillow. Did he just imagine it? Resisting the urge to check, he dressed quickly and headed downstairs. He needed to eat something. Routine was good for him, he needed to do everything as normal as possible. Maybe it would shake him out of this funk. Ian skidded to a stop at the bottom of the stairs as he saw that both Fiona and Lip were both at the kitchen table. They had serious looks on their faces and when he reached the bottom they both focused on him. Dread curled through his veins.

"Ian," Fiona started.

Ian forced himself to keep walking to the fridge, mood already plummeting. "No."

They looked at him in surprise, exchanging glances as he continued grabbing the orange juice and pouring him a glass. Lip tried, "We just really feel-"

Ian interrupted, "This about bills? Need more money?"

Fiona paused, mouth half-open, "Well, no."

"Frank?"

"No."

"Anything besides my mental health and this month?"

Lip stared at him, eyes dark, "Ian, we just want you to talk to us."

Ian felt some dark emotion settle in his veins that felt a lot like rage. "No, I'm not talking to you."

Slamming the refrigerator door shut he turned to stare at them. They stared back looking shocked and confused. "Are you mad at us about something?"

Ian couldn't name why all his rage bubbled to the surface now. Why their caring faces suddenly made him sick as every bad thought bubbled up in him. "If I start talking to you right now, neither of you are going to like what I have to say. So I suggest for all of us that we just skip this."

Lip, unable to resist, "What the fuck, Ian?"

Ian closed his eyes and tried to gather the strength to walk away from this. Fiona's voice cut through his breathing, "What's wrong with you, Ian?" 

Ian's fists clenched as he tried to calm down. “What's wrong with me? What isn't wrong with me? What about the fact that I have very obvious issues because the guy I thought was my dad made no secret of the fact that he fucking hated me. Or that every dream I've had has turned to shit. That my own fucking brain is working against me all the time and there is no way of predicting when my meds might just fail and I go crazy again!! The one person that slightly understood decided to fucking die. I know you guys hate her but I can't. She was so great and so fucked up and everything inside of me is all mixed up and none of it makes sense." Ian took a shaky breath, eyes filled with tears. He continued quietly. "Mickey was here. He talked to me and told me that I was all he could think of in prison, that he wanted to be with me and he loved me...that I was his family more than anyone else was. Do you know how shitty that feels after the hell I put him through? After turning my back on him again and again, after you guys did."

Lip interrupted, "Hey, I didn't do shit to Mickey."

A few tears ran down Ian's face. "You did! We all did. The shit that I put him through....the nights that I didn't come home. All of the times he had to talk me down from some crazy idea, the times he had to talk me down from killing somebody and where were you guys? You barely told him what bipolar was and he still tried so fucking hard to be with me. We all just abandoned him, after Sammy. He was there waiting and wanting me, I still couldn't just fucking do it. The people I thought would understand me the most when it comes to fucked up love were you guys. But you act like you don't feel it...you don't want it and it is all I can think about. You guys' just looking at me like I'm about to snap and break isn't helping me. You guys' talking behind my back like I don't have a say in how I feel is not okay. And even now after everything you're just looking at me like I'm fucking Monica about to slit my wrists right here. ”

Lip was silent and Fiona was still half out of her chair. Fiona cleared her throat, “Ian, you just said a lot and-”

Ian felt drained. He didn't want to stay here. Putting down his glass carefully he turned and walked through the living room out the front door. The last thing he heard from the house was his name being yelled.

 

 

 

Ian got on the first train that was leaving the station. He didn't even look up until he was a half an hour into his train ride. It took a few minutes to figure out where he wanted to end up, but once he had he could only hope that he was welcome after everything. Two hours later Ian is looking up at a tall tower, high-end apartments hidden behind dark glass. Finding the right name, he hit the call button.

“Yeah?”

“It's me.”

There are a couple moments of silence and then a sigh. The box buzzed as he was let into the building. Ian let himself relax a fraction, feeling relieved that he had somewhere to go. He took the few minutes in the elevator to collect himself. Finding the right door he knocked and waited for the answer. Even after the years of her hair being blonde Ian expects jet black hair.

“Mandy.”

“Well, come in then.”

Ian walked in the apartment, it was all clean lines and white furniture. The living room was set up in front of the huge glass wall, the kitchen behind it separated by a huge island. A staircase lead upstairs to a second floor where Ian assumed the bedrooms were. It was nice, very nice. Walking over to the windows he looked out to a view of the city, lights were starting to come on as the sun set.

“This place is amazing.”

Mandy walked up behind him, “Yeah. The guy who owns it has moved to New York for business, he usually gets escorts from my company so I'm paying super cheap rent right now. Good while it lasts.”

“Well, it'll be fine.” He grins at her. “You're all fancy now, you'll land on your feet.”

Giving him a small smile she walks to the kitchen. “So, Gallagher, let's get real. What are you doing here?”

Ian's smile drops, “I just wanted to see you.”

Mandy laughs, “Ian, I love you but I don't believe that for a second...the way our lives are right now we only see each other when we're in the shit.”

Sighing he agreed. “I guess. Wow, that's kind of sad isn't it?”

“For someone that calls themselves my best friend, yeah it is.”

“I kinda went off on Lip and Fiona. I started yelling at them and couldn't stop, then I just walked out. Ever since...”

“Monica? Mickey? Your life imploding?”

He stared at her. “Well, yeah...”

She grinned, “I keep up with South Side, just because you hardly talk to me doesn't mean that others don't.”

“Mandy...” Ian started feeling guilt settle in his chest.

Waving her hand as if that would dispense the awkwardness in the air. “Don't worry about it. You've been...busy. I know it isn't always easy to get your life together.”

Walking over with a water bottle for Ian and herself she pulled Ian onto the couch to sit with her. Ian took a minute to look at her. She looked good. Mandy's hair was piled in a bun on top of her head, her eyes were clear and there wasn't a bruise in sight. That guilt settled a little harder when he thought of her swollen eye and bruised cheek in the Milkovich kitchen. “Yeah, that's the thing. I've been trying so hard and I feel like I really don't have my life together at all.”

Mandy sighed, “Ian yout expectations aren't like other people's.”

“What does that mean?”

Looking into his eyes Mandy took a second to choose her words. Trying to be careful she continued on in a gentle tone. “Ian, you are never satisfied. You always want more.”

Ian stared at her confused. “I am satisfied.”

“It's not always a bad thing. I mean when we were younger you had such big dreams and when you were forced to give those up you got new ones. When yout relationships don't work you get new ones. You are always constantly moving on. When you are always striving for the next thing though sometimes you lose what is in your present.”

“That's not true.”

Mandy sighed looking at Ian. “Ian, if you had a solid argument here I would give this to you. I'm not saying this to be mean. It's not a bad trait, you land on your feet. Even after your life has had to drastically change, you have a great job. You are taking your meds. You have a good life...but you have a tendency of burning your bridges behind you.”

Ian was silent trying to process her words. When life went sideways he usually just chose a direction and threw himself in it, letting everything else fall to the side. Letting his head fall onto the back of the couch he stared at the ceiling. “I don't want to keep burning bridges.” Letting his head roll, he looked at her. “Mandy, I miss you.”

She pulled her legs up onto the couch folding them under her. “I miss you too. I just feel like our lives are so different. I feel like we went through so much without each other. Stuff I needed you there for and now things are just...different.”

“Like me going crazy.”

“Like me becoming a sex worker.”

He grinned at her. “But I want to be here for you. I don't want to move on from you.”

“Me neither.” Taking a sip of water she cleared her throat. “So what are you fighting with Lip and Fiona about?”

“I feel like for people that barely have their lives together they easily judge me for any bad choices I make. They've just been staring at me for days just waiting for me to explode. I know that they're worried, I know that they just want to help but I just don't want to fucking talk to them. Especially about...”

“Monica?”

“Yeah, they hate her. Like no holds barred, full on hate her. And I get it, I do. But she is the only person that I know that had bipolar. She was the only person there when I ran away from the army, for weeks I was with her. I know that she was a damaged, destructive person. I know that, but she was my mom.”

“She was. So you miss her?”

“No, I don't. I just don't know how to grieve for her. I have so many feelings about her that I don't even know what to do with them.”

“Ian, no one can tell you how to grieve for her. Monica was not a good person. She made all the wrong choices, you know that. She was also there for you in ways that most of your family wasn't. Monica understood your disorder even if she never had a handle on it.”

“I get it though. Do you know how easy it would be to just embrace that lifestyle? To just live my life in the highs and the lows. Do you know how much I miss that? How great it feels to be at that peak for weeks? As fucked up as she was I get why she made her choices.”

“Which makes the life you have even more remarkable. You are making that choice everyday to not be like her.”

Ian's throat felt tight. “But what if that's not enough? I don't always want to be the steady one. I spent my whole childhood trying to make the right decision, being the one that always had a job to contribute to the bills. Choosing the dream that I could actually achieve and get me out of there without my family having to help. I don't want to always have the calm boring life. Especially after having tasted crazy, exciting life.”

Mandy looked at him trying to read his eyes. “You don't have to have one or the other. Ian, life isn't black or white. You don't have to suck the fun out of your life because you feel like you have to be the stable one. You can take your meds, have a life, have a family and also have fun. Take chances and have adventures.”

“What if I take it too far?”

“Ian, there is always that chance. You need to stop thinking so much. Just live your life and take it one day at a time. You think I don't worry that the next guy I meet is gonna choose to haul off and slap me one day? You think that I'm not scared that I'll just lay down and take it again?”

“You won't.”

“I hope not, but I can't know that.”

Ian took a deep breath, he hated the uncertainty of it all. Ian liked having goals and even more than that he liked making them. Not knowing what was going to happen next, not knowing how his life was going to turn out killed him. “Well, that's just peachy.”

Mandy laughed, “That's just life. Listen you can stay here tonight or even a few days if you want. I have work tomorrow but we can hang out.”

“I'd like that. Thanks.”

Ian was given blankets and shown the guest room where Mandy let him settle in for the night. Even the guest room had an on suite bathroom with a shower. He chuckled to himself, this place really was nice. The room was sterile, without any personal touches. The gray bedspread looked crisp and untouched. For a moment Ian just stood in the center of the room feeling uncomfortable. He sat on the edge waiting for the feeling to pass. Sighing he fell back onto the bed. Better make himself comfortable.

 

 

 

Waking up in a new place was always weird, especially after the period of being so high he didn't even know where he was half the time. Taking stock of his surroundings, he stretched. Going to the bathroom he emptied his bladder and splashed some water on his face. Searching in the cabinets for a toothbrush he came up empty. Ian cupped his hand under the faucet and brought a mouthful of water up rinsing his mouth. Pulling on his clothes from yesterday he realized that he had brought almost nothing with him. There were a few days worth of meds in his jacket and his wallet but nothing else.

Ian took the stairs down to the main level and saw Mandy seated at the island. She was texting on her phone but looked up guiltily when he came down. Hearing the click of her locking her phone his curiosity peaked. Arching an eyebrow at her he stared.

“So you want breakfast?” she asked.

Letting it go for now he sat at the island. “Sure,” he replied. “What do you got?”

Opening the fridge she started listing off options. “Well, we have waffles, eggs, sausage..”

“Eggs are fine.”

Mandy smiled brightly, “Okay.” Reaching for a bowl she turned her back as she pulled the eggs out of the fridge. “Scrambled okay?”

“Perfect.”

Her phone vibrated on the island. Ian's eyes quickly looked down at it. The notification showed through the lock screen. 2 new messages from M. Ian's eyes snapped up to hers. Mandy was staring back at him with wide eyes. “It's nothing,” she said.

“Is that-?”

“Ian.” she interrupted. Giving him a pointed look, “It has nothing to do with you.”

Ian's felt like his stomach was filled with lead. He wanted to demand her to answer him. Ian wanted to push until she gave him every drop of knowledge that he wanted. Her silence and refusal told him exactly who she was talking to. Even if it didn't, it felt like it had everything to do with him. Why did Mickey keep showing up in his life now? Mickey had a way of lighting a match to every thought in his brain until he was consumed with only Mickey. He felt like now was the worst time for Mickey to come up again, when he was already struggling to find his footing.

“Can you-”

“Ian,” Mandy began again. “As the friend you just came to about how messed up your life is right now I'm telling you that you should just let this go.”

Swallowing down the million questions he had Ian tried to quiet his brain. “Okay.” he said shakily eyes still glued to the phone. “I can let this go for now, but I'm not sure if I can forever. I need to know things.”

“I'm not telling you where he is.”

Ian's eyes flew back to hers. “What do you mean? You mean he's not in Mexico?”

Mandy sighed, she put down the bowl that she was cracking eggs into. “I have a client I have to meet at noon. I should be back at four or so. While I'm gone I want you to really, really think whether you want to go down this road. We're going to have a long talk before I tell you anything that you could want to know. Okay?”

Ian clung to the possibility that she would tell him more about Mickey, “Okay.”

Turning back to the bowl Mandy continued on preparing the eggs. “So give any lap dances lately?”

Ian grinned and launched into a story. “Given? No, but at work the other day...”

 

 

 

It was a quarter after three p.m. Ian had tried to distract himself for the last few hours. He had taken full advantage of Mandy's Netflix and tried to immerse himself in hours of television. It had somewhat worked, but half his mind still stayed on what was going to happen when Mandy got home. What all did he want to know? What would he do when he found out?

The last half an hour had mostly consisted of pacing. Making up his mind, Ian decided to make lunch for when Mandy got here. Looking through the fridge Ian settled on making a stir fry. The methodical chopping should occupy his mind. Pulling everything out, Ian began sorting the vegetables and began chopping. Humming to himself he pulled out a pan and put it over high heat. Getting lost in the process Ian was still cooking when Mandy walked in.

Mandy cleared her throat to get his attention. Glancing up he smiled, “It'll be done in just a minute.” Mandy was frozen for a second, for a moment Ian's face had lit up the way it did when he was young and sweet. She hadn't seen that face in so long. It was the first thing that ever drew her to him, he had the sweetest smile.

“Yeah,” she said voice a little rough. “Yeah, I'll get plates.”

Grabbing plates and forks she brought them over to the island. There was a formal dining table tucked on the other side of the kitchen but she never used it preferring to eat at the island. Ian loaded up both plates with rice then took big spoonfuls of vegetables and beef. Sitting side by side they began to eat. She was surprised at how good it was.

“This is great.” she commented. Ian smiled at her as he continued to eat. The silence was heavier than usual but they both still enjoyed the meal. Mandy was stuffed by the end of it. Putting up the food into containers so that they could eat it later Mandy prepared herself for the conversation to come. “Let's go into the living room.” She turned the tv to an animated comedy and dropped the volume, just using it as background noise.

Ian was looking expectantly at her. “So I've thought a lot. It didn't just start this morning either. I haven't been able to stop lately.”

“About Mickey?”

“Mostly.”

“Okay, before we do this I need to know where your head is out. What do you want to get out of this? Do you want to be with Mickey? Do you just want to know he's okay out there so that you don't have to feel guilty?”

Ian swallowed wondering what all Mickey had told Mandy. “Guilty?” Ian had generally been pretty close lipped about his relationship to Mandy, seeing as she usually didn't want to know the dirty details.

“Guilty,” she confirmed.

“I don't know how to answer that.”

“Okay then.” Mandy sighed. “Let me put it like this, I have been in love with one Gallagher. And after talking to Mickey we have both...at least somewhat been through similar emotions with you guys. Lip...he broke me. In a way I didn't know I could be broken. I offered all the shattered pieces of myself to him. I poured myself into that relationship. I may not have always done it in the right way. Believe me when I tell you that looking back I did some fucked up things in the name of love but I wanted him. So I gave up parts of myself to make him happy. I tried to build him up not knowing that I was making myself small in the process.” Mandy's mind flashes to her on a bed, arms wrapped around her knees feeling as small as she ever had. A year ago she would have been in tears telling Ian about this.

Ian was quiet. “I didn't make Mickey small.”

Mandy gave a small smile, “You didn't. I know that. You made Mickey great. Mickey became the best man that he could be with you. Growing up, Mickey rarely got to be gentle and caring. After our mom....Mickey never had it easy. With you Mickey became who he really is inside. You got to the soft, best part of Mickey and dragged it out to the front. I know that you went through hell to do it. Because of that...it's almost worse. I was never good enough for Lip, I never even thought that I was. Now I know that I should have someone that fucking worships the ground I walk on but back then I was desperate for any scrap of love I could get. Mickey thought...he thought that if he worked hard enough, if he was good enough then you would end up together. Every time he pushed himself a little farther he thought that maybe this time you'd decide he was enough. If he was a better gay man and came out to our homophobic father, if he was a better father and learned to love his kid, if he was gentle but not too gentle...” she trailed off. Ian looked stunned, like she had winded him.

“I loved Mickey. He didn't have-”

“Oh, he did. You didn't make him into someone he wasn't. I just want you to know...this is going to make you feel like crap.” Mandy looked at the ceiling as she tried to gather herself. “There is nothing worse than standing in front of the person you love, with all your cards on the table offering yourself to them...and then for them to tell you that you still aren't good enough no matter how hard you try.”

Ian's eyes were filled with tears. “I was off my meds. I barely remember...”

“Ian, I'm not blaming you here. I just want you to get a Milkovich perspective. I know that you gave a lot for Mickey. Mickey gave you a lot of shit for it, I know that he hasn't been always been a good man to you. I'm not making excuses for him.”

“Mickey told you all this?”

“Mickey loves you. We met up when he was in town after he escaped. We had long talks about the Gallagher's that broke our hearts.” Mandy felt a pang as she remembered Mickey's grin as he talked about meeting Ian at the docks, the way he told her that he thought that Ian was really gonna choose him this time. The last time she saw him he said she would get a picture of the two of them on the beach in the mail, that he was gonna make a new life for them. She remembers the one sentence text she got from an unknown number two days after they were supposed to cross the border. _I'm safe, I'm by myself._

“I never meant to break his heart.”

“We rarely mean to.”

Ian took a deep breath. All the questions had seemed to have vanished from his head over the last ten minutes. “Is he safe?”

Mandy looked at him, guarded. “I can tell you that Mickey is safe, as safe as he can be with the choices he's made. Mickey didn't stay in Mexico for very long.”

“He's not in Mexico.”

“No.”

“Is he here?”

Mandy got up from the couch, “Ian why do you want to know this? You have a boyfriend. You have a life. A good life that you worked for.”

“Yeah, but I don't feel it. Ever since Mickey came back it's like he snapped me out of a daze. I can't stop thinking about him. Between him and Monica this normal life that I was planning on coming back to has gone up in smoke.”

“And what? You're gonna pack up and head to wherever he is?”

Ian looked at her. Mandy's hands were on her hips and she was looking at him incredulously with eyebrows raised. Between the eyebrows and the eyes all he could see was Mickey. The more he thought the less done he felt with Mickey. Mickey who he kept coming back to after everything. Mickey who had been there through the highs and the lows. “Yeah,” Ian said shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. “I think I am.”

“You're just going to go blow up both of your lives for the hell of it? He already offered you a life together, what's different? Mickey still has all the same baggage. He's still on the run Ian.”

“I know,” Ian replied. “I...it was so quick. One minute we were together and everything was amazing. He was here and touching me. The next minute I was watching him drive over the border. I don't know if I made the right choice.”

“Ian, you can't do this lightly. I wasn't exaggerating. This will change both of your lives. You are burning down the life you have now.”

“No, I'm not Mandy. I'm done burning bridges. Why can't I be with Mickey and still have a life here? I'm done choosing something and forgetting the rest. I can be an EMT anywhere, I can come back for holidays or have my family come to me. I...” Ian paused and stared at Mandy with wide eyes. “Mandy, I don't think I can spend the rest of my life without Mickey. I don't think I can live with the choice I made.” Mickey's broken voice echoed in his head _I want you to come with-don't do this. Then get in the fucking car...Fuck you, Gallagher._

Mandy looks at him seriously, “Ian I am not fucking with you. If you don't mean this, you need to walk away. You guys are like magnets and you are finally far away enough that he can't come back. If you have any doubts, don't go after him.”

Ian thought about it. He could live his life here, he could find someone to love and to build a life with. Ian had no doubts though that he would think of that moment at the border for the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he had been next to Mickey as he drove through it. “I'm sure.”

Sighing Mandy walked over to the island pulling out a small drawer. From the drawer she pulled a small piece of paper. “Doing this job I've met a lot of people in high places. I pulled a favor and got Mickey all new documents. This is his address. He is living in California now, it's not too far from the border in case shit goes wrong. He's been going by his middle name Alex. Last I heard he was working at a garage, so close to the border there's a lot of people off the books. The documents I got him are the best though, he could go enroll in the police academy if he wanted. Be careful, I'm sure he's pretty jumpy.”

Ian took the paper from her, holding it as if it would disappear in his hands. Ian felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “Thank you. I need to get some shit together, I need...” His thoughts were racing with everything that he needed to do.

“I'm going to warn him that he's going to get a visitor. I won't tell him that it's you though, there's too much shit there, I'm not sure what he would do. He could make a run for it. He'll probably assume that it's one of our brothers.” Mandy pauses, shoulders tense. “If you change your mind I'll just tell him that things changed and they didn't need to come after all. I won't...I won't get his hopes up."

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Ian spends days with the paper hidden in his wallet. It is always on the edge of his awareness, just there waiting for him. After spending another day with Mandy Ian had headed home, the situation was awkward with all of them tip toeing around each other. Fiona kept looking at him with guilty eyes, words clearly on the tip of her tongue. He ignores them for the most part, knowing they have to settle shit before he leaves. Ian can't leave with things like this.

One of his old bags from ROTC sits in the corner of his room, as the days pass more and more things find their way into it. Ian is quietly collecting his life before he leaves. He's getting a new refill for his pills in two days, he's planning to leave then. Ian bought a cheap car off someone in the neighborhood that he thinks can make it out to California and a car charger to keep his GPS going. Anxiety seems to dog his every step, doubts if he is doing the right thing. The more he thinks about it though, the more certain he becomes. Ian thinks about Mickey's arms as he held him, the way he always sounded slightly surprised when Ian made him laugh, teeth marks bruised onto his shoulder after nights with Mickey. That couldn't all just be gone. Through everything, all the shit that's happened to them, Ian thinks that they're kind of meant to end up together. Even if that's stupid, he's gonna take that chance.

 

 

 

The day he leaves he feels as if there is a weight pressing him forward, pushing him toward California. Ian insists on a family dinner that everyone has to attend, saying that he has news for everyone. He was pretty sure that everyone was approaching this dinner with trepidation, unsure of what he was gonna say. Ian wasn't going to tell him that he was going after Mickey, he knows the backlash that would follow and after the countless conversations with himself he refused to be talked out of it.

In preparation for the dinner, Ian had gone to the store and bought groceries. He had assembled a lasagna that was cooking away in the oven, garlic bread was laid out on cookie sheets waiting for the right time to go on. Ian's eyes kept checking the clock. Slowly, one by one family started to trickle in.

Fiona looked at him with nervous eyes, she ruffled his hair. “Smells good.”

Ian tried to smile back at her. “Thanks, I've been practicing lately. It's nice, easy.”

Fiona smiled at him, “Yeah? I'm glad, good for you.”

Moving over to the table Fiona took a seat next to Carl. All the younger kids were happily chatting away, while Fiona looked on eyes clouded. Everyone was there but Lip. Ian put the bread in the oven and set the timer, pulling the lasagna out to cool some. He stayed standing by the sink, sipping on a beer. Letting the familiarity wash over him, he tried to enjoy the moment. All the nights and mornings gathered around this table, bickering over bills and their lives, everything saturated in family. It was hard, knowing that those days were over. Honestly those days had been over for awhile, they had all fallen apart from each other. The comfort of home felt a lot like nostalgia anymore.

Lip walked through the back door, already shrugging off his coat and scarf. “Smells good.” he commented, Ian smiled at the repeated comment.

As Lip took a seat at the table, Ian checked on the lasagna and bread. Seeing they were almost done he shut the oven and looked over his family. “Everybody hungry?” Taking the lasagna over to the table he set it in the center of the table, he went back to retrieve the garlic bread and brought it over to the table. “Careful, it's hot.” he warned as everybody started to dig in.

Ian served himself as everybody started to chat about their days. Before long the table fell into a lull of silence as everybody ate. “God, Ian, maybe you should cook for a living.” Debbie groaned.

Ian laughed, “I'm gonna start doing it more, it's comforting.”

“Well, I can't wait to benefit from that.” Carl commented.

Ian felt his face twitch as he heard the comment, knowing he wouldn't be around for awhile if things went well. He'd be gone. He'd be gone for them graduating high school, for them deciding what to do with their lives, for all the hiccups along the way. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, so....that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you guys' about.”

“Cooking?” Lip asked as he shoved a bit of lasagna into his mouth.

“Uh, not exactly. See, the thing is..”

Fiona stared at him, “Ian, you're kind of scaring me here.”

“There's this opportunity for me to go to California for awhile.” Ian blurted out.

“California?!”

They all stared at him in shock. “Wha-what's in California?” Carl finally asked.

“It's more about what's not. A friend has a place out there that I can stay at for awhile. I just feel like with everything that's happened I really just need to get away.”

Fiona put a hand on his arm. “Ian, now is when you need family the most. When we're at our low points our family picks us up.”

“No,” Ian sighed. “Fiona everything here is...tainted. All I see are echoes.” He pointed around the house. “That's where I almost bashed Debbie's head in with a bat. That's where Monica tried to kill herself. That's where my half sister tried to kill my ex-boyfriend. That's where I flushed my pills. It's just a lot for me right now and I feel like I need a fresh start.”

“A fresh start? Ian-”

“I think he should do it.” Ian looked on in shock as Debbie said the words.

“Debbie, I really don't think you-”

Debbie interrupted, “No. I think that Ian would do great in California, he doesn't need all the bad shit from here dragging him down. If he has a chance to get out, shouldn't he take it?”

“But is he really getting out?” Lip asked. “What happens if it doesn't work out?”

“He comes back,” Carl commented.

Ian grinned, “Exactly, worst case scenario, I just come back. Then I can say that I at least took the chance, right?”

Lip and Fiona fell into silence as the younger kids started to laugh with him. Ian knew that the conversation was far from over but he let himself fall into the excitement of it for now.

“Are you going to be by the beach?”

“Are you going to be an EMT? Oh, you could be a lifeguard! I was watching this docu-”

“So many hot chicks are gonna be wasted on you! You have got to take-”

 

 

 

Ian watched the water circle the drain as he washed up the dishes that were left from dinner. He could feel the gazes of Lip and Fiona on him. Debbie, Carl, and Liam had all gone upstairs leaving him at the mercy of his older siblings. Sighing, he thought of how unfair he had been to them lately. He knew that they just wanted to help. Ian had always had an independent streak a mile wide though and a lot of the time people helping felt like them smothering him. His knee jerk reaction was to lash out so he could be left on his own to lick his wounds. For awhile now Ian had been putting their faces to the voice in his head that nagged him to stick with the safe route and to be the normal one. Ian knew he wasn't being fair, but lately he couldn't help it.

Turning off the water, he turned to face them. “You aren't going to talk me out of it. I know it's a risk, I know you guy's think that this is crazy.”

“I wouldn't say crazy..”

Ian rolled his eyes, “You can say crazy. I'm still doing it.”

“I just don't know where this idea came from,” Fiona exclaimed. “California? Who do you even know in California?”

“No one, that's the point. A friend has family out there who are helping me out with a place to stay.” Ian explained.

“Who is this friend?” Lip questioned. “You haven't said a name.”

“Why so you can go question them? This is a good opportunity for me,I know that things can go wrong. I know that. I also know that I have you guys' to fall back on.”

Fiona bit her lip, “Are you sure about this?”

Lip looked at her incredulously. “Fiona, you can't be-”

“Yes, I'm sure. I feel like I have to do this, I feel like this might be my last chance for something great.”

“Okay.”

“Fiona!”

Fiona walked forward, wrapping Ian in her arms. “You're going to do great. When are you leaving?”

“I'm leaving tonight.”

Fiona let go, her eyes filled with tears. “That's fucking soon.”

Ian's eyes filled as he nodded. “I know, I'm sorry.”

Lip was leaning against the counter, staring at them. “That's it? You're really just gonna leave?”

“Lip, I'm not leaving you. I'm still here for you.”

“Yeah, but you're not fucking here. It's different.”

Ian looked at him, silently asking for him to let him have this. “Please.”

Lip looked at him for a few moments before finally nodding. “California. You better fucking call me.”

“I will.”

Lip finally came over, he looked into Ian's eyes roughly grasping the back of his neck. “You're ridiculous,” he commented before pulling him into a hug.

Ian laughed wetly, “I know.”

 Ian leaves that night, sent off with tearful goodbyes and making promises to update them. He knows that it's going to be days before he hits California. Ian has loaded up an iPod to keep him company. The address is loaded into his GPS and he's ready. Taking a deep breath he pulls away from the house, sure that this is a trip he needs to take, for better or for worse.

 

 

 

 

 

The sun burned hot and fierce, making sweat roll down his back. Mickey had been burnt since he crossed the border. He didn't know when his skin would cooperate and just fucking tan. Mickey wasn't sure that he had ever had a tan in his life and his body was fighting the very idea, he had a permanent strip of red across his nose that no amount of sunscreen had gotten rid of. His hands were filthy and he wiped them on the rag that he had looped in his belt loop. Squinting into the sun he debated whether he should go to the back and grab something cold or finish up as quick as he could. God, this fucking heat was killer. Making a decision he walked away from the car and headed into the garage.

For a man that had ended up in prison on a trumped up charge because of his juvie record and his family history he had been having an undeniable streak of luck. He had ditched the car and almost everything that he had from Chicago on a backstreet with no houses for miles and then lit it on fire just to be sure. It didn't feel like letting go, it felt a lot like getting shot. The last thing that he threw in the burning car was his burner phone, after he checked it one last time for a text or call. There was nothing and didn't that fucking sting? Mickey walked to the closest town he could get to and found a car that he could steal. He filled it up with gas and hit an interstate, not looking back. After crossing the border Mickey had spent a week in Mexico. He spent most of his time driving west, sleeping in his car trying to put distance between him and Chicago. Mickey limped by with what little Spanish he knew to keep his car running and food in his stomach. He bought another burner phone from some cheap convenience store and the second time he called Mandy she convinced him that with the right documents he could blend in easily in a small not so legal town in California that was close enough to the border that nobody talked. He stole the address off a mailbox on a back road and staked it out waiting for the package. Holding the package in his hand had felt a lot like a second chance.

Getting back over the border was just as easy, easy enough that Mickey didn't stop thinking he was gonna see lights in his rear view mirror for a good fifty miles. From there, Mickey just followed Mandy's directions. He doesn't know exactly who she had been doing business with to get these kind of documents and information but he doesn't really care. She had told him that it was a favor she called in, that she wasn't taking any risks helping him and he trusted her. The last time he saw her, she had looked good. Mandy was pulling her life together much better than he was, that was for sure. Mickey missed her, more than he thought he would. Between her and Ian he felt like he was missing a limb, he had never had many friends and they had been everything. Almost everyone he had was through an extension of them. He also missed Yev in a vague way, though not nearly as much. Mickey loved the kid, the pure relief of holding him after Ian's episode convinced him of that. Knowing that he was safe somewhere and far away was good enough for him though. Mickey knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't good for the kid, he'd be better off growing up without a Milkovich in sight. Mickey knows he sure would have been better off.

The town that Mickey goes to is a small city, there are enough people there that no one really looks twice at him. There's a mix of native Californians and people from Mexico, there either legally or not. No one really looks twice at him despite his pale skin and vulgar tattoos. Mickey settles in quickly, finding a job at a local garage. Mickey works and goes home. He crashed at an abandoned factory about five blocks away until his boss talked him into renting a small apartment from a woman that seems to be about a hundred and thirty but always makes too much food that Mickey takes for lunch. He uses what is left of the money Ian fave him for the down payment, it's harder than it should be to let go of the last thing that Ian touched but it was a pretty sweet setup all things considered.

The apartment is bare expect for a couch and a bed. Mickey brought hardly anything with him. He has one bag of clothes, that once unpacked takes up a tiny portion of the closet in the bedroom. The most precious things he has are from a phone that Mickey had before he went to jail. There were seven pictures saved to his camera roll,Mickey had made sure that he printed the pictures out to take with him. Three of the pictures were Mickey's failed attempts at a selfie before giving up forever. The fourth is one that Ian had taken of Mickey feeding Yev when he wasn't paying attention, they're sitting facing each, mirror images. The fifth picture is of Ian grinning, Mickey's face is half hidden by his as he tries to get Mickey to cooperate, the picture slightly out of focus. The sixth picture is of Mickey sleeping, Ian is facing him with a soft look on his face as he takes the picture. Picture number seven is his favorite. Mickey had taken it after waking up before Ian one morning, his wide blue eyes staring into the camera. Ian is spooned behind him, sleeping, face tucked into the soft part of Mickey's neck looking peaceful. The light coming through the window is soft, making everything look a little hazy. They're tucked in an envelope that's hidden in the pocket of one of his bags. They feel like everything, at times they feel like the only thing that proves he had a life once.

Every night Mickey locks the door and the windows, he closes the curtains and puts a chair wedged under the door. A gun has a permanent position under his pillow. It usually takes a good two hours for him to fall asleep as he stares at the door, waiting for someone to come through it. Silence always surrounds him...he was alone. It takes him five days to realize he is about ten minutes from the beach and two more to actually get there. The water is warm but a welcome break from the relentless sun, people on surfboards taking advantage of the rough water. The beach is never crowded and he learns to appreciate the lull of the ocean. Mickey spends more time there than he ever thought he would have, especially once the sun dies down and he's left with the dusky dark and a never ending view.

Mickey knew that he was taking a chance asking Ian if he was going to come with him. Knew with that first phone call that this wasn't going to end the way he wanted. He couldn't have the last time he ever saw him to be through prison glass as Ian looked back with empty eyes. Mickey knew now that he was an idiot thinking that Ian was going to choose to be with him in the end. Looking back, Ian's silence spoke volumes about the way he thought about the situation. He couldn't believe how he went on about the beach and the life they were going to make together, talking about getting through prison with the thought of him and how he was your family. Honestly he thought the were thinking the same thing until the were staring at the border and Ian was telling him that he wasn't going to come. He really should have fucking known. Ian was adaptable to the point of indifference. He never had a problem moving on and starting his life over when plans fell apart. Ian always had a new boyfriend, a new job...a new life. Mickey was always playing catch up.

A voice cuts through his thoughts. "Taking a break already?" his boss ribbed.

"Ay, the sun is kicking my ass."

Dave, his boss, was a fat fucking white guy with a southern accent as thick as tar. Hair dark and receding, he had a good six inches on Mickey. He looked like he could easily handle anything that walked through the door. Mickey would bet money that he had ended up here because of some kind of law breaking but he was one of the nicest guys that he had ever met. He would fix any old woman's car for free as long as she brought him some home cooking for free, that's how Mickey found his landlady. Everyone around here knew that he would give you a fair price and if you weren't happy to pay it he'd show up at your house with a crowbar ready to take it. Mickey, who usually had about as much bravery as sense knew not to fuck with him. Working hard and bringing him lunch when he had extra had gone a long way to getting on Dave's good side though. Mickey was paid in cash and he kept it in a cubby he made behind his bed at home.

"Take fifteen to cool down but Mr. Antonio is gonna be back for his car at six. You good to get it done?"

"Yeah, just needed a minute."

"Okay," Dave clapped him on the back. "Find me when you're done and I'll pay you for the week, Alex."

"Yeah." Mickey always felt a quick flash of guilt when he heard the name he was going by. "I'll come back." Grabbing a bottle of water from the small fridge in the corner of the break room he pressed it to his neck, sighing at the coolness. Looking out at the small lot, he just felt tired. Starting over was hard, he felt like he was constantly working just to be believable in his own skin. No, sir, he didn't try to kill his boyfriend's sister. No, sir, I'm not wanted back east. Snorting at his thoughts, Mickey cracked open the water gulping it down. God, it was really fucking hot.

 

 

 

Mickey gets the text walking on his way home. The message from Mandy is simple  _Hey, so you may be getting a visitor from Chicago soon. Don't worry until it happens. Stay safe, dickhead._

Hearing from Mandy always gives him a slight rush and it's hard resisting the urge to tell her to check on Ian, without her he has no connection to Ian. No way to know how he's doing. He talks himself out of that though, knowing that Ian doesn't want this life. Doesn't want Mickey. And no one knows how hard that Mickey is trying to be okay with that.  Mickey is trying to let go. It takes Mickey a few moments to reply, confused he asks  _What? Who?_

 ** _Don't worry  until it happens._** Mandy replies.

Mickey rolls his eyes, Mandy always has to be difficult. Pocketing the phone he makes it to his apartment, he unlocks it and walks in. There are two deadbolts on the door and a chain on the door. He won't ever deny that he's paranoid. Mickey snorts to himself, he isn't paranoid since there are probably law enforcement departments actively looking for him right now. In the weeks that he's been here he's collected a few, small things. He found most of them on the side of the road or in small little shops for dirt cheap. Mickey now has a small table that goes by his door where he keeps his wallet and keys. There are a few blankets scattered around now thrown over the couch and a decent chair that he picked up. A cheap television hangs on one wall with a slight crack on the screen. The favorite thing he's found though is the dark brown wooden coffee table that sits in front of the sofa, it's a solid piece though it's a little rough around the edges. Every piece feels like he's claiming his new life, little by little.

Settling onto the couch he turns the television on kicking off his shoes underneath the coffee table. Closing his eyes he tries to relax. For the first time since he got here Mickey confirms to himself, he can do this. It's going to be hard and it's going to be lonely, but he just might make it through this.

 

 

 

Mickey isn't sure when this surprise guest is supposed to show up, so for the next week he feels as if he's constantly looking over his shoulder trying to catch a familiar face. He is dreading it in a way. As hard as it is no one knowing anything about him is a relief. No one knows that you could buy anything from a Milkovich for the right price. No one knows that Terry Milkovich would put a gay man in the hospital if he caught your gaze lingering just a little too long on someone. No one knows that Mickey Milkovich came out to his father under a hail of fists that only a pair of cuffs stopped. Which...okay, he was kind of proud of that one. Mickey, now Alex, was a blank slate. No one could base opinions off his reputation.a

Shaking himself he continued shoving his work clothes into the washer. That was one of his favorite things about the place, it came with a washer and dryer shoved into the corner of the bathroom. No spending money on trips to the laundry mat. Uncapping the detergent, he just poured some in until he felt like it was enough. After closing the lid he picked up the basket of warm clothes that came out of the dryer walking over to the couch Mickey dumped it and started folding. If only those people could see him now, he was practically domesticated. This was the first time he had a place that was his own and he was embracing it.

Halfway through the basket there was a knock at the door. Mickey's heart shot into his throat, reaching onto the coffee table he grabbed his gun. Taking cautious steps toward the door he unlocked the deadbolts but kept the chain on. Cracking the door open he sighed in relief when he saw it was his landlady. "Ma," he greeted her by the name she insisted on. Mickey really doesn't even know her first name. Ma's smile widened when she saw him and he closed the door to unhook the chain, stashing the gun in the table by the door and let her in.

"Alex!" she said warmly. Ma held a tinfoil wrapped dish in her hand that smelled amazing. "Are you hungry?"

Mickey smiled, "I just ate actually but you know I can never turn down your food."

Ma walked in, familiar with the place and stuck the pan in the fridge. "You will eat later, you can just stick it in the oven."

Mickey tried to stop the small flinch as she reached up to pat his cheek, but she just looked at him warmly. "I will," he promised. "What I don't finish you know Dave will eat it?"

Laughing lightly she joked, "Dave should cut back. You, dear boy, need to eat more. You are too skinny." She poked his stomach. "Too skinny and too skittish. I will fix both."

Mickey couldn't stop the small smile that he had, basking in her warm presence. His mom died when he was young, he really didn't have any females in his life growing up after his mom died. Mickey's aunt stuck with Mandy and Mandy was more than willing to scrap like a guy. Honestly, Fiona was the first woman he had been around for an extended time as an adult and she never really took an interest in him beyond Ian. Ma was different. Since he had gotten here, she hadn't forced herself in his space. She had just been there and willing to stick around. Ma had said that all her own kids had grown and moved away, that she was a mother and needed someone to care for. It seems like she had chosen Mickey, even if it was just because he was renting from her. Mickey would take it while it lasted.

"Oh, really?" he chuckled.

"All you need is love."

Mickey's smile dropped a little bit. "Yeah."

Ma's head cocked to the side a little bit as she studied him, "Have your heart broken?"

He shifted uncomfortably, "Nothing I wasn't prepared for."

Her face turned serious. "We are never prepared for heartbreak." Ma patted his face once again. "I have errands, but I will be back later to check on you. When do you work?"

"I don't today. I'm a free man."

"Then later." Ma promised as she headed to the door. "Be careful with that gun, too. Before you hurt yourself."

Mickey looked at her in surprise. "I will be."

Ma laughed and put her fingers to her eyes in an 'I'm watching you' motion. "I know things, Alex. Don't forget it."

 

 

 

  _Mickey's day was going great. Today Mickey had got to go to his favorite park that had the tallest slide in all of Chicago and he was getting to eat macaroni and cheese for dinner. His older brother's were at friend's houses and Mandy was spending the day with his aunt. Today was just him and his mom. Her brown hair was pulled into a bun on top of her head, making her round face look even younger than it already was, warm blue eyes just like his ringed with a fading bruise._

_"And then I went to the very top to slide down. All the way up even though he said I couldn't do it because I was too little!" Mickey exclaimed._

_She laughed, "Oh no. He didn't say you couldn't, how rude."_

_"Yeah-huh. He said I wasn't big enough, but I told him I'm six now!"_

_Eyes lit with delight she nodded seriously, "Very grown up. He should've known."_

_Mickey nodded back at her, "Yeah. Did you see it?"_

_Getting up she took his bowl. "You on the slide?"_

_"Did you see how high I climbed?"_

_"I didn't," pulling a dramatic pout she reasoned. "We'll just have to back out in a couple days. Take Mandy with us too."_

_Feeling a little put out at the fact that he had to bring his sister he sighed, "I guess."_

_His mom snorted, "Mandy likes the park too."_

_"She can't climb the big slide yet."_

_"It won't be long."_

_"I guess," he grudgingly agreed. "We can go on the swings together."_

_She walked over kissing his head, "I like it when your sweet to your sister."_

_A car door slammed outside and she instantly tensed. "Ana!" a voice screamed._

_Her arms tightened around him, eyes fixed on the front door. She pulled him up from the table and into the living room. Quickly pulling him down the hallway she pushes him in the bedroom toward the closet._

_"Go hide, baby, I need you to be very quiet, okay? No matter what you hear."_

_Mickey looked on with wide eyes, "Mom, I want to stay with you!"_

_Identical eyes stared back at his from his young mother's face, "I know baby. I need you to be very brave though. Put your hands over your ears and just think of your favorite stories, okay?  It'll be okay." She cups her hands around his face. "Mikhailo, I love you very much."_

_Pressing quick kiss to his head she pushes him toward the closet again and closes the door behind her. Mickey feels fear run through his veins as he moves over to the closet and shuts it. "Mommy?" he whispers trying to be quiet._

_"What did you think was gonna happen, bitch?" he hears yelled._

_"I do not need that shit around my kids!" his mom yells back._

_Hearing a crash from the living room he puts his hands over his ears. He's not here, he's running with his favorite action hero saving the day. Through his hands he hears loud arguing, first in English and then Ukrainian. The voices raise as he tries to tune it out. They reach the point where he can almost hear it clearly through his hands, there's another slam and then silence. It's heavy after the chaos of the yelling. Mickey feels like his stomach is in his feet as he stands perfectly still. He hears the ticking of a clock ring through the quiet along with harsh breathing. A door slams and Mickey flinches. Mickey waits a long minute and then two, waiting for someone to come bursting through the door. For the dark figure of his father to appear dragging him from the safety, it isn't the first time Mickey's been thrown about by his dad._

_Turning the door handle he slowly opens the closet. The bedroom is empty and the house feels still. Creeping out of the bedroom he makes his way toward the living room. There's a table overturned, books scattered on the floor. "Mom?" he ventures again. Mickey's heart is pounding, his body vibrating with it._

_Mickey eases around the corner, fully coming into the living room. The first thing that he sees is her hand, reaching out from behind the couch. It's still. Making himself small, Mickey survey's the room. It looks empty. He drops to his hands and knees crawling toward his mom. "Mommy." he whispers._

_Rounding the couch, he hesitates. She's facing away from him. Dark hair has been knocked from the bun, spilling on the floor. Mickey reaches a hand toward her, pushing her back he tries to rouse her. "Mom."_

_There's no response. Crawling closer, he pulls her shoulder toward him. Her body shifts, blue eyes now fixed on the ceiling. They're empty, fixed open. "Mommy?" Mickey whispers, voice hoarse._

_Mickey doesn't understand. She can't be that hurt, there's no blood. Shaking her, he tries again. "Mom, wake up."_

_No response._

_A sick feeling curls in his stomach. She's not blinking. Her eyes are just open, blank. They're not supposed to be like that. Mickey feels tears build up, scared at what's happening. He can't cry though, boy's don't cry. Mickey gets up and gets the phone off the end table. Dialing his aunt's number he doesn't take his eyes off his mom._

_"Hello?" his aunt's voice comes over the phone._

_"She won't wake up." he blurts out._

_"Wha-Mickey??"_

_"They fought and now she won't wake up. Her eyes are open."_

_He hears a sharp intake of breath, "Mickey, go to your room. I'll be over in a minute."_

_Mickey falls silent before whispering, "Is she dead?"_

_"Go to your room, Mickey. I will be right there." The dial tone comes over the phone. He drops it to the floor._

_She hasn't moved, eyes still open. Walking over he sits down next to her. Mickey's confused, if she was dead there would be blood. There's always blood. He takes her hand, the warm fingers that cupped his face feel cool. She liked holding hands though so he keeps them linked as he waits for his hand. She was going to be fine. They were all going to the park soon._

Mickey woke with a gasp, body tense.  _Fuck._ He hated that dream, that memory. It was bad enough the first time without having to relive it countless times. Rolling over he got out of bed, shaking his hand out. After the dream his hands always felt weird for hours after, as if they were still feeling the cold touch of her. It had taken ten minutes for his aunt to get there, his mother's hand was ice cold in his by the time she arrived. Mickey was numb at that point, staring at her body. He refused to be pulled away from his mom. The paramedics had arrived just a few minutes later, his aunt had probably called before she even left her house. It took both of them to pry him off of her and let them take her. Their dark and loaded looks told volumes though. She was dead before they ever had a chance to save her. He was hysterical for hours, screaming for his mom. When he finally fell silent it was for weeks. Nothing could make him talk. Not getting dressed in his small black suit. Not seeing her lowered into the ground. Not his father's heavy looks, tinged with guilt. His aunt told no one that he was there. Probably scared of what his father could do.

The only pictures he had seen of his mother were at his aunt's. She always looked so young to him, having him and Mandy when she was in her teens. Ana Milkovich had been twenty four when she died. Head trauma alone wouldn't have killed her that quickly, the doctor said that they believed the fall most likely released a blood clot that then caused a stroke. It was rare in someone so young, but possible. Open and shut case. No suspicious circumstances. Mickey kept his silence. Talking could only make things worse. It was two months before he talked again, mostly to Mandy. It was easy to be forgotten anyway in that house.

Walking to the bathroom, Mickey tried to shake off the images of his mother. He had always had vivid dreams, most of them were nonsense reflecting his day and what his mind had lingered on. But sometimes they dredged up memories and fears forcing Mickey to acknowledge them. As if he could forget about the things he has seen. Looking in the mirror, he tried not to see his mom reflected back in his eyes. Running his hands under the water he dragged them over his face and told himself to get over it. Shaking the water off he moved out of the bathroom, determined to get on with the day. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants he dragged them on, not bothering with a shirt. He yawned, scratching his stomach as he stretched.

Circling back to his bedroom he grabbed his phone off of the nightstand and checked the time. It was only seven in the morning, he had until eleven to get to work. Making his way to the kitchen Mickey grabbed the food that Ma had left him from the fridge. He turned the oven on and just stuck the whole pan in there to heat up. Squinting he set the timer on the oven so he wouldn't forget. Mickey flipped on the television so that he wasn't in complete silence, the low murmuring comforting. He turned eyeing the sink full of dishes, debating for a second he decided that it could wait until after lunch. Unlocking his phone he checked his messages. There was one from his boss saying that they were overstaffed for today so he didn't need to come in, that he could pick up some hours this weekend to make up for it. He sighed, that meant that there was nothing for him to do today.

Rubbing his thumb against his mouth he debated on what he could do to fill up the day, maybe he would go to the beach. Checking the timer on the oven Mickey went over to the trashcan tying up the bag. Leaving the apartment he headed for the back entrance of the building where the dumpsters were kept. Throwing the trash into the dumpster Mickey made his way back to the apartment. As he reached his floor a voice interrupted, "Mickey?"

Mickey froze, he hadn't heard that name for weeks. He knew that voice. He knew it like the back of his hand. Mickey had heard that voice in every tone imaginable. That voice had whispered to him late at night, it had screamed at him, it had been burned in to his soul like nothing else. Mickey's stomach felt like it was in his chest, because this couldn't be possible. It was a mistake. He slowly turned toward the voice.

He was here. "Ian."


	3. Chapter 3

It had been harder to find the building than he had thought. Staring up at it Ian was filled with anxiety. He had no idea how this was going to go. If Mickey spit in his face he had no plan other than to just turn around and leave. Make this a round trip. Summoning up ever ounce of courage he had Ian got out of the car. Taking a deep breath he convinced himself, he could do this. Walking toward the building he opened the main door, there was a staircase leading to a second floor and a room with mailboxes off to the left. Ian walked up the stairs looking around for numbers by the doors. As he came to the top of the staircase the breath was knocked out of him.

Down the hallway was a familiar silhouette with a very familiar walk. He couldn't stop his voice from calling out, "Mickey?" The figure froze, but didn't turn around. Ian could feel his heart in his chest, it only took a moment for Mickey to turn. Ian's eyes took him in. Mickey's skin was slightly darker than it was in Chicago and his hair was a little lighter, bleached out from the sun. His tattoos were still stark against his knuckles and his hands were balled up into fists. He stood completely still. There was something about Mickey, when he was prepared to either fight or run he had a different energy. Mickey held himself just a little bit differently, shoulders tight and thrumming with energy. At least that hadn't changed.

Mickey's face was blank. "Ian." he acknowledged, voice flat.

Ian swallowed against a tight throat, nervous at his welcome. "How are you?"

Mickey arched an eyebrow. "No." he said. Turning Mickey walked down the hallway quickly, disappearing behind a door and slamming it behind him.

Ian shrugged to himself. Well, that could have went worse. He walked after him.

 

 

Mickey leaned against the door, heart racing. He couldn't be here. For a second Mickey gave into it, slumping against the door he closed his eyes and felt his face crumple. Tears prickled at the back of them. Mickey couldn't do it. He couldn't let Ian into his life again. Bringing his hands up he pressed the balls of his hands against his eyes. A sharp knock sounded from the other side. Mickey could swear that he felt Ian's presence lingering, like their energies were mixing even through the door. Turning he leaned his forehead against it. "Ian, please just go."

"I don't have anywhere else to go."

Mickey's hand flattened against the door. Slowly it drifted to the doorknob, he wrapped his hand around it. His mind was at war with itself. Mickey wanted nothing more than to open the door and fall into Ian's arms. He was trying really hard not to be a bitch right now, not to look as weak as he always did when it came to Ian.

"Mickey?" Ian's voice questioned after a minute of silence. "I'm not leaving."

Already kicking himself Mickey opened the door, knowing it was a mistake. Seeing Ian standing there, standing tall and strong. He hated him a little for growing up to be so fucking hot. Mickey just stared at him for a minute, raking his eyes over him as Ian let him. "Why are you here?"

Ian's thumb rubbed against the tips of his fingers, betraying his nervousness. His eyes were steady though, determined. "I came to see you."

Mickey's voice was rough, "Why?"

Ian hesitated. "Can I come in?"

Mickey's first instinct was to shove Ian back and slam the door in his face. Protect his space and the slice of safety he had found. After a moment he stepped to the side letting Ian into the apartment. Closing the door behind him he stayed facing the door for a moment, steeling himself for whatever Ian was about to put him through. "You can't be here Ian."

 Ian's eyes plead with him, "I can't not be here."

Mickey sat down on the end of the couch, fighting to keep his face blank. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds drawing a deep breath. "You shouldn't be here." That's the only thought that kept circling his brain. Ian shouldn't be here. They made their choices and Mickey wasn't Ian's.

Ian hesitantly sat on the edge of the couch near Mickey, wincing when Mickey shrunk away from his presence trying to keep some distance. "Mick..."

Mickey felt a rush of anger at the soft word, like Ian was trying to weasel his way through the walls. "Don't." he stated harshly. Ian couldn't come here after rejecting him. After leaving him again and again. After giving him false hope and letting Mickey think that they were gonna spend their lives together. Ian doesn't get to come and be the hurt one with sad eyes. It wasn't fair.

Ian fell into silence, not sure how to cut through the frigid anger that Mickey had rolling off of him in waves. He just looked at Mickey. Mickey was beautiful in a way that was hard for Ian to describe. Maybe it was the years of Mickey's harsh behavior that made Ian admire his softness. The curve of his lips that fit so perfectly against his. The dark fan of his eyelashes that fell over endless blue eyes. So many times they would be doing something and Ian's breath would be knocked out of him just looking over at Mickey. How he had ended up seeing the softness, the gentle smile that played on his lips when he was happy, Ian would never know. Looking at Mickey's scowl now Ian felt a rush of bitterness toward himself, at how easily he ruined the things that made him happy.

"What was your plan here?" Mickey asked, tone flat.

"My plan?" Ian asked surprised.

Mickey burst up from the couch turning harsh eyes to Ian as he loomed over him. "Yeah, your plan. Did you think I was just gonna fall to my knees like some bitch grateful that you wanted to be with me?"

Ian winced again at Mickey's sneer. "That's not-"

"Not what?" Mickey harshly laughed. "Not the norm, I don't give into you over and over again only to end up alone?!"

Ian started to glare back, "Don't act like your the saint here, Mickey."

Mickey was breathing harshly. He knew he wasn't, mind flashing to blood on Ian's teeth. Suddenly he felt pressure at the back of his eyes, feeling so helpless as emotions ran through his body. Choking it down Mickey turned away from Ian. "Why would you want this?"

"Mickey I love you."

Mickey felt his heart drop. Mickey pictured every time that Ian walked away from him. Watching as Mickey was chased down the street by his sister, not even bothering to watch actually. Mickey, eyes dark as he stared across the street as Ian went on a date. Ian face flushed with pride as he talked about doing a porno. Ian's eyes staring at him from the abandoned warehouse as Mickey drank. Ian's hands reverently touching him late at night, eyes lit with happiness. "I don't think it's enough."

Mickey heard Ian's sharp intake of breath. Looking back at him he met Ian's green eyes. They were wide and staring back at him.

Ian took a shaky breath. "Mickey, I can't...you drove over that border and instantly my stomach dropped. It was like I had just made a decision I couldn't take back." His eyes became shiny with unshed tears. "What was supposed to happen? We just never see each other again? Forever?" Ian's voice broke on the last word.

Mickey stared back at him, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Ian was voicing a thought he had repeatedly. Ian had been in his life for years and he was just supposed to walk away from that? Just take it as a loss and move on? How was he supposed to do that? Especially when his heart ached at the very thought of him.

_beep beep beep_

The incessant beeping cut through the silence. Mickey cursed as he realized it was the timer on the oven, having completely forgotten. He went into the kitchen and pulled the food out of the oven. Mickey set it on the top of the stove and turned off the oven. The smell of the food wasn't even enticing, he had completely lost his appetite. Letting his eyes wander up he looked at Ian. He wasn't facing him anymore. Ian's palms were facedown on his knees, hands clenched around them. Mickey could barely see the side of his face but Ian was looking straight ahead. If you had asked Mickey four years ago if this was what Ian Gallagher would grow up to look like he would have laughed, knowing that tiny freckle faced kid. Nothing was turning out like he thought. 

Mickey's jaw clenched as he realized that Mandy had been the one to send Ian his way. With no fucking warning. Looking at Ian now he knew that neither of them were really prepared for this situation even though Ian threw himself into it willingly. No way was this going to be easy with all their fucking history, every word weighted with meaning. Mickey's eyes traced the sharp line of Ian's nose. He pictured Ian curled up on a warehouse floor like he was, dirt clinging to his skin long after he woke. Ian praying that he would find a gas station bathroom to clean up so he could look like he was trustworthy enough to work for someone. "You can stay here," the words were out before Mickey realized.

Ian looked back at him with shock. "What?"

Mickey cleared  his throat. "You can stay here for a couple days. Until we figure shit out."

Hope colored Ian's voice, "Really?"

"This doesn't mean I want to be with you." Mickey reminded him harshly. "I just don't want you out on the fucking street, okay?"

Ian tempered the flush of relief he felt, trying to remain neutral. "Okay."

"You'll have to sleep on the couch. I only have one bedroom." Mickey continued, already second guessing his decision. Thinking of Ian here, in his space, inches away. He swallowed harshly.

"That's fine," Ian quickly said. He gave a small smile. "It's perfect."

Mickey stared at him. The air felt heavy as thoughts crashed through him. It'd be so easy to just give in, walk over and crawl into Ian's lap. He could be held, Ian would wrap his arms around him and tell him how perfect he was. Ian would tell him how they were meant to be and they would be happy. Mickey would be happy. Then he would wake up alone with Ian halfway back to Chicago, chuckling to himself at how he almost ruined his life with his trashy ex. Ian would tell all his new boyfriends about his violent closeted ex who thought they'd end up together. They'd all laugh at the silly fuck up who thought he had a chance. Mickey felt his breath quicken as his mind kept circling down. Feeling as if his chest was going to explode he tried to break those thoughts. "I've got to-I'm going to leave for awhile."

"...Mickey."

Turning over towards his dryer he pulled on whatever he could find and shoved a pair of shoes on. "Ian, I can't be here right now." Heading to the door he paused, hand on the doorknob. "There's a spare key in this drawer by the door. There's food on the stove. If you leave just lock it behind you."

Ian's voice was quiet. "I'm not leaving."

Mickey fought down the snort of doubt that wanted to escape. He grabbed his wallet and his phone as he walked out the door. Desperate to be away from the charged air in his apartment he fought the urge to run out of the building. When the hot sun hit his face he felt as if he was taking the first deep breath since he had caught sight of Ian. Starting to walk he worked to clear his mind. He was going to the beach.

 

 

 

Ian stared around the apartment uncertainly. It was quiet, the only sound coming from the television. He looked around, feeling uncomfortable in the new space. His eyes lingered on the beat up coffee table, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Mickey had made them stop at yard sales all the time, bitching that he just wanted to look for a minute. He would judgingly look at someone's belongings, only rarely buying things. When he did buy things though...it was like they had always been there, slotting in seamlessly to their lives. Getting up Ian began to poke around. He rummaged through the things on the table by the door, eyeing the scraps of paper and random pens. Looking up his eyes lingered on the closed door on the opposite side of the apartment. Unable to resist temptation he walked over to Mickey's bedroom.

Slowly opening the door he peaked in. The bed was made with perfect corners, pillows situated at the top of it. A small nightstand with a lamp on it sat beside it. The room was small and seemingly impersonal. Ian could feel Mickey lingering at the edges of it though. There was spare change and a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand, looking like Mickey had just emptied his pockets on to it. The closet was cracked open, a shirt trailing out. Ian walked over to the nightstand stealing a cigarette and lighting it. Taking a deep drag he closed his eyes in pleasure as the nicotine hit his system. When his eyes opened they caught on the closet. Debating for a second he made his way over. Ian was nosey, what could he say? It was a character fault.

As he opened the door he grinned, the sight oddly familiar. Dark clothes took up the majority of the space with a few colorful pieces sticking out. Ian let his fingers run over the atypical Hawaiian shirt with it's bright flowers, picturing Mickey wearing it. Pulling it forward he breathed it in, the smell was different. Mickey was using different detergent than they used to but underneath that was a faint smell that was purely Mickey. Letting go his eyes saw a box at the top of the closet, tucked mostly out of sight on the shelf. Sticking the cigarette between his lips he used both hands to pull it down toward himself. Ian's eyes flitted to the bed but the smooth unwrinkled blankets deterred him. He settled cross-legged on the floor with the box in front of him.

Ian removed the lid. The first thing he saw was a stack of money. Some of it was wrinkled making the stack lean a little, he quickly moved on. He didn't have any use for Mickey's money. Next he saw a stack of documents. Flipping through the papers his eyes were caught on the name.  _Alexander David McCollins_. Ian snorting, knowing that Mickey most likely hated the name. Underneath all of the papers were a few shiny pictures. Ian's breath caught as he saw what they were of, his own face staring back at him. His throat tightened at the sight of them entwined, eyes bright with love. Green eyes flitted to the ceiling as they stung with tears, he blinked rapidly trying to prevent them from falling. Hands shaking Ian replaced everything the way that it was. He closed the box and made sure to put it back exactly where he found it. Ian's hands were gentle, he felt as if he was holding Mickey's whole life in his hands.

Still feeling on the verge of tears Ian walked out of the bedroom closing the door behind him. He leaned against it for a moment trying to collect himself. Blowing out a slow breath he was startled when there was a knock on the door. He stared at it uncertainly. Should he answer it? Walking over he paused by the door, his hand hovered over the table knowing what was in it. Steeling himself he cracked the door open. Surprised eyes met his. "Uhhhhh..." Ian greeted inelegantly.

It was an older woman with gentle features. There were small lines around her eyes giving her an inherently kind look. She stared at him for a moment before trying to peek around him. "And you are?"

The voice was firm and Ian found himself responding before he could think. "Ian."

Her eyebrows raised. "Where is Alex?"

Ian stared at her confused for a second. "Alex?" After a second Ian realized what she was talking about. "Oh. Oh! He's out for right now."

A smile started to tug at her lips. "And you are...friend?"

Unsure how to answer Ian agreed, "I'm...an old friend."

The smile quickly vanished as she continued to stare at him. "You are heartbreaker."

Ian just looked at her. "Um..." His hand clenched around the door.

"I will come in and wait for him."

"I don't even-"

"I am landlord and I'm coming in and waiting."

Ian had to dart out of the way as she pushed open the door and barged in. She was looking around suspiciously as if Ian had Mickey cut up and stuffed in a closet somewhere. The woman firmly settled onto the couch. As Ian met her eyes he sighed, it looked as if he was about to be interrogated. Nervousness settled in his stomach, he hoped Mickey wasn't mad that he had let her in. Ian groaned and resigned himself to his fate. Closing the door he joined her.

 

   
Mickey walked to the beach, he had hoped it would clear his mind but his thoughts seemed to just move in a circle. He seriously debated calling Mandy, even bringing up her number on his phone before deciding against it. Mickey felt betrayed and he felt stupid for feeling that way. Every time that he pictured talking to her anger pulled at his veins. Hours had been spent pouring out his broken heart to Mandy. They had drank over their collective shit show that the Gallagher's had caused. He couldn't believe that she had sent Ian straight to his door, not even warning him that it was Ian. Mickey shouldn't have been surprised. The way that they grew up the family that you chose held a hell of a lot more pull than the one they were given. It was probably one of the reasons that they fell for the Gallagher's, that thick family bond almost glowed around them promising safety and warmth. The Milkovich family was nothing like that.

Arriving at the beach he frowned as his gym shoes were almost instantly filled with sand. Mickey cursed as he removed them and shook them out. He quickly found a spot to settle into on an empty stretch of beach. Mickey's eyes closed as he let the sound of the waves lull him. Fingers clenched around his phone as he debated talking to Mandy again, she was the only one that he had. The only friend really. Her disgusted face flashed behind his eyes as he thought of all the times she stood in front of him blaming him for Ian's heartbreak, for Ian leaving.

Mickey's eyes popped open as he tried to shake the thought. The ocean stared back at him, endless and deep. Before everything Mickey had thought that he would hate the ocean. He thought that the hot sand and the salty water would just cause more trouble than it was worth. Now though...now the ocean was really the only place that felt like home. It was the only place that he felt like he belonged. He snorted at his thoughts. Just him and the ocean, two peas in a pod. Who needs people when you have enough water to go on forever?

Stripping he made his way into the ocean, letting the natural current pull him out a bit. Mickey flattened out letting himself self be rocked gently by the waves. There was distant laughter and chatter. That plus the rush of the water was enough to drown out his thoughts. The sun beat down on him, reminding him that he wasn't wearing any sunblock. Mickey reluctantly accepted the fact that he was going to be burned later.

It could have been hours that he was swimming, he lost track of the time. When he got out of the water he was exhausted. The ocean always seemed to do that, leaving him drained as he left the beach. Dressing Mickey checked his phone. There was nothing. Slowly he started to make himself back toward his apartment. As he walked into the building he tried to prepare himself for Ian again. The looming thought of him seemed to grow stronger the closer that he got to his door.

As he approached he heard muffled conversation. He tilted his head trying to make out what he was hearing. At first he thought that Ian was on the phone before he heard the gentle lilt of Ma's voice through the door. Mickey felt a bolt of panic, hoping that Ian wasn't giving too much away. Sometimes he forgot that his whole life here was a lie, he wasn't ever safe. Opening the door slowly he saw them sitting on the couch facing each other. Neither of them noticed him at first. There was a deep furrow on Ma's face as she stared at Ian and Ian's wide eyes looked scared. Mickey snorted at the image of six foot Ian cowed by the tiny woman before him.

At his snort both of their heads snapped over to look over at him. Ma's face instantly relaxed at seeing him where Ian's face gained another layer of fear. Ma got up from the couch making her way over to Mickey and wrapping her arms around him. "I was so worried!" she exclaimed. Mickey watched Ian over her shoulder and saw surprise light his face. He'd almost be offended if he also didn't see the gentle smile that Ian had, like he was glad that someone was caring for Mickey. Ma released him but cupped a hand around his face looking into his eyes, she stared into his eyes before nodding. She looped an arm into his and gentle pulled him back toward the door. "I will leave, walk me out."

Mickey agreed, without any choice really. He walked with her and they came to a stop right outside the door. "What did you guy's talk about?" he asked her, he couldn't help himself.

"No worries." She answered simply. Her kind eyes looked at him. "He is a good man. Ian has a good heart."

Nothing could stop the slight feeling of betrayal that went through him. It's like they couldn't even help liking Ian better than him, like it was easy. Like it was inevitable. "Oh."

Ma seemed to see right through him as she stared harder at him. "But you are also a good man with a kind heart." She rested a palm against his chest over his heart. "I promise you that you will survive whatever choice that you make. You don't need him." 

Mickey stared at her. He felt as if she was giving him a choice that he didn't even know he had. "I..." his words trailed off, as he was uncertain of what to say.

Gently patting her hand over his heart she went on, her head tilted as if she was unsure of how to phrase her words. "There is no weakness in choosing love. But...there is also no weakness in choosing yourself either. Sometimes we must be selfish by either putting ourselves before the ones we love or by choosing love above all the doubts around us."

Mickey still stared at her, he tried to digest her words. He hated that she wasn't giving him a clear decision, she wasn't arguing for him to do one thing or another. Ma just wanted him to be happy. Reaching up he patted her hand with his. "Thank you."

Ma's eyes were alight with love and it winded him that such a kind woman was choosing to be in his life because she thought that he was worth something. Dropping her hand she smiled. "Go talk to your boy. It seems as if you have a lot to discuss." With those final words she walked away and Mickey watched as she disappeared down the staircase.

Taking a deep breath he prepared himself to talk to Ian. Walking back into the apartment he emptied his pockets onto the table by the door before turning back toward Ian. Green eyes were staring at him with an unreadable look in his eyes. "She's nice," Ian commented.

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, she's...surprisingly nice."

Ian continued watching him, eyes tracking his every move. They lingered on his still damp hair, "Where'd you go?"

"The beach."

"Oh." Ian's eyes were lit with surprise. "The beach."

"Yep," Mickey agreed popping the 'p'.

Mickey walked over toward the couch, he hesitantly sat next to Ian. Ian turned slightly so that he was fully facing Mickey, eyes filled with uncertainty. "Did you, uh, clear your head any?"

 

"Ian." Mickey sighed, already so tired just from all the thinking he had done today.

"Mickey." Ian returned. His hands waved as he tried to collect his thoughts. "I debated coming here. For a long time." Mickey winced at the words. "I didn't come here lightly. I wouldn't have come here if I had thought we didn't have a chance." Mickey titled his head to meet Ian's gaze, blue eyes cautious but open. Ian gave into the urge and slid to his knees on the floor between Mickey legs. Grabbing his hands in his own Ian looked up at his earnestly. "I have loved you since I was fifteen years old."

Mickey rolled his eyes and started to tug on his hands. "This isn't a fucking rom-"

Ian tightened his grasp looking intently into Mickey eyes. "Listen to me." Mickey stilled, uncomfortable pinned under Ian's gaze. "I have loved you since I was fifteen. At first....y'know it wasn't anything, we were both just willing to get off. But just being around you and touching you...it stopped being simple fast. You don't know how many times I just wanted in your head, to know what you were thinking because you fascinated me Mick." His finger ran over Mickey's knuckles. "So much shit has happened to us, so much bad shit. Despite all of it though, you have become a great man. Mandy said that I made you that way but I think you were that way all along. The fact that you wanted to be that man to me is something, something, I won't ever know what I did to deserve."

Mickey was just staring back at him with wide eyes, not believing what was coming out of Ian's mouth.

Ian pushed on, certain that this was his last chance to convince Mickey. "I know that I haven't always been easy. With my personality or my disorder, all of it. But the shit we've been through...Mickey, I think we can survive anything together."

Mickey eyes were dark as he cut in. "Did you know I'd never been to the ocean before now?"

Ian faltered, confused at the change of subject. "No, Mick, I-"

"Ian," Mickey cut in again. "I don't want to survive my life anymore. I would have died in Chicago never having stepped a foot outside of it. Every time something good happens in my life I can't even enjoy it because I am so terrified that it's going to end and it always has! Nothing good has ever lasted for me. I am an escaped convict on the run Ian. I'm not going to have a good life, you were right to not choose me."

"Mickey, look at the life you've already made here! I just spent a half an hour being interrogated by a woman who is fiercely protective of you. When I was out on the fucking streets out of my mind you're the one that came and got me, the one that stuck by my side through everything. I'm the one that fucked that up. You are...perfect." Ian's eyes shined. "Mandy says that the risk is low of you getting caught here and I can work anywhere. Mickey I want to be with you."

"Why now?" Mickey questioned.

Ian hesitated. "When we were at that border...I made a choice. I'm not saying it was the wrong one because maybe you wouldn't have ended up here. You left and it wasn't the end of the world, it just felt unfinished. But that feeling grew and I couldn't stop thinking about you, if you were okay. My life was fucked when I came back, my mom was dead and I didn't have you. All I wanted was for you to walk through the door saying that you were sorry you were late again and hold me. Every time somebody said your name it was like there was this gaping hole in my life because you weren't there. Even when we weren't together before there was always a chance of you coming back. I knew you were never coming back to Chicago though...I had to come here or there was no chance of seeing you again."

Mickey could feel himself giving into to Ian's earnest green eyes. "You want me? Like really?"

Ian smiled. "Yeah, I want to fall asleep with you and wake up next to you. I want to learn how to make a life together, a healthy one. I want us to be good for each other and I think we can be. We know the lowest we can go but I don't think we know the greatest we can be. We can start a whole new life here and just be together."

Mickey's heart stuttered. It was hard to believe what Ian was offering. It couldn't be that easy. After everything that's happened they couldn't just fall back together right? "Ian, if we do this...this is it. This is the last fuckin' time I'm taking this chance."

Ian nodded frantically, hardly daring to hope. "I know."

"It's not going to be like it was before. I'm not going to change myself to make you happy, I can't keep sacrificing pieces of myself. I'm not going to stay up all night wondering where you are. I'm not going to let you yell at me because I'm trying to care for you. And.." Mickey swallowed. "You can't let me hurt you Ian. We can't fight each other like that. I can't take out my fucking insecurities on you."

"I know," Ian agreed. "We've done a lot wrong, but we know that! I know all the fucked up things I did to you. We've put each other through hell. I want to work on it though, I want us to talk. I want to know what you need from me, I want to know when I hurt you. I want to be good together, Mick. I feel like we have been so close to that."

Mickey agreed. He knew that people didn't find the person they were supposed to be with as kids, that first loves were supposed to be one of many. Mickey wasn't like that though. He had given everything to Ian, every broken part of him and he didn't want it back. Choosing love didn't make him weak. "Okay." He agreed heart beating out of his chest.

A grin split Ian's face as his eyes lit with happiness. "Yeah?"

Mickey couldn't help the corresponding smile. He thought that getting back with Ian would feel like he was giving something up, that he was losing something like pride. Right now all he felt was relief, body singing with it. "Yeah."

Ian pushed up on his knees until he was face level with Mickey, staring in his eyes. He finally let go of Mickey's hand to cup his face. Mickey's hand came up and laid over Ian's. Ian gently kissed him, almost chastely. Releasing the kiss he leaned his forehead against Mickey's, "We are going to be amazing."

 

 

Ian's life seemed to exist in snapshots. Mickey's hand hot against his as they came in for a longer and sweeter kiss after agreeing to try again. Flush with happiness, tattooed fingers tangled in his as Mickey tugged him toward another 'gem' he had found on the side of the road that was perfect for the apartment. Hands sticky with aloe as he ran them down Mickey's burnt back, laughing as Mickey bitched about the sting. Dull light coming through the window hitting Mickey's sleeping face, Ian looks for a second before rolling over and going back to sleep because, honestly, he had the rest of his life to look at that face.


End file.
